


sometimes I forget

by cthulu_sun



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:03:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9184921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cthulu_sun/pseuds/cthulu_sun
Summary: The year is X.Due to overpopulation and the rise in life expectancy, having children is forbidden. There is only one exception; breeding season.During breeding season, couples are allowed to select a child to raise as their own, and the Government checks up on these families every six months.Illegal children, ones born outside of breeding season, are branded with a number and taken away to live in a Government facility while the parents are dealt with. These children are at the very bottom of society; they are not considered people.Numbers work for the Government, fighting resistors that have tried to break free from the law.For 658, the facility, his school, and the battlefield are all he knows.At least, they're all he thinks he knows.





	

_some things stay, and some things never return._

\-----------------------------------------------------------

658 has a name.

He knows this with the same sort of certainty that he knows he's going to have honey loops for breakfast tomorrow, seeped in sugar and tasting of air. 

He knows it like he knows he's called 658, burned black on his littlest finger, burned black behind his ear.

He hears it, he thinks, every so often. A dream will end with the word on the tip of his tongue-it's there, he knows it is.

But he is rarely believed; rarely believes it himself because why should he have one, why would he need one, where had it come from?

And yet, 658 has a name. An unknown name, but nonetheless it holds more meaning than he thinks it should.  
He's a person, if he has a name.  
He wants to be a person.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

658 has two blue eyes. He knows this because he sees them in his reflection, knows this because people tell him how lucky he is to have this shade of blue, how pretty it is when he smiles. 

(He doesn't smile much, anymore.

People say he's forgotten how.) 

Someone told him, a long time ago, that he looks scary when he smiles. Maybe. Sometimes he forgets things, you see.

But he knows things, too, like how he has a name, and he has a scary smile, and he's always had honey loops for breakfast in the morning. 

Sometimes he forgets, but sometimes he just  _knows._

_\-----------------------------------------------------------_

There is a boy sitting in his seat at breakfast. It is Friday, so the long tables that stretch across the entire length of the room have been pushed together, so that friends can sit with each other, instead of sitting with their respective number groups. 

It doesn't bother 658 too much, since he doesn't really have friends anyway, but everyone  _knows_ that this is his seat and people don't just sit in it by mistake. The people around him look apologetic, as if they tried to warn this stranger, who stubbornly sat down anyway. 

658 sighs, places his bowl of honey loops down on the table, next to 579 who looks less than thrilled to see him, and grabs this new boy by the collar of his white shirt. 

On closer inspection, he has bright, messy orange hair and eyes that should look scared but don't. In fact, he looks almost... happy? 

"You!" 658 snarls, close to the stranger's face, who now looks dutifully terrified. 

"What do you think you're doing?" He shakes the boy for good measure, which earns him an extremely loud shriek. Far too loud, really; he's not shaking  _that_ hard. 

"I-I'm sorry!" 

It is a quick, sudden apology, one that comes tumbling from the boy's lips like an accident, as if he hadn't meant to say it but couldn't quite stop it from slipping out.

658 puts him on the ground, gently, and rubs his temples. Something about this situation feels startling familiar, despite the fact that he doesn't remember ever interacting with this person.

"Find somewhere else to sit," he mutters, tired, annoyed, with a bowl of honey loops that are sinking lower and lower into the milk. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

579 looks angry, to say the least. His spiked up hair looks more threatening than usual, and his entire body is almost quivering with rage.

"You don't treat newbies like that!" He yells, loud enough for everyone at the table to hear, and 658 is sure there is a muttered 'King' somewhere in the background.

He ignores all of them and sips the milk off of his spoon carefully, thinking about the 'newbie', as 579 so delightfully put it. 

It's not as if getting new people is rare- it really isn't, there are new ones that appear every day- but something about this feels strange. Unsettling, somehow. 

 "What was his number?" Somebody asks, probably 624, the admirably good soldier that 658 sort of wants to be like when he's older.

"You just want to know so you can harrass him about it," says the guy sitting next to him- 635? 

624 pouts, 635 hits him, and the question goes unanswered.

658 thinks about it, though, walks to school flanked on either side by a government official while thinking of the new boy's number.

He didn't see one, honestly, if he remembers it right. (He's not sure that he is remembering things correctly; he'd have to be stupid before he trusts his memory). 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

658 is the only number at his school. The only reason they let him in is because of his supposed 'intelligence', which he doesn't actually have that much of outside the battlefield.

He sits in the desk closest to the window, so he has something to look at when he gets bored, which is often. Unfortunately, it also means that when the teacher isn't looking, the entire class pelt him with spitballs under the pretense of aiming for the window. 

He may be 'King' at home, but here he is just another number, someone not quite human anymore, the product of people who broke the rules. 

He has a habit of sticking to the rules because of this, although more often than not he gets blamed for many of the school's behavioural problems. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

School passes relatively uneventfully, which 658 is thankful for, however when he reaches the facility he is met with a wide, wide smile and sparkling brown eyes. 

"Get out of the way!" he whisper-yells, shoving the boy over for good measure. He doesn't really move, just stands and watches 658 walk into the facility. 

579 glares at him on the way past the room he shares with 462, who is possibly the only person 658 has met who does not give a fuck about anything. 

His room is down the corridor, at the end, and he doesn't have a roommate. Mostly because he doesn't have any friends, which are needed for that sort of thing. But also because every time he's there he feels like something is missing, a particular person, and he wouldn't want to put just anyone in the empty bed next to him. 

Which is sort of a ridiculous idea, which is sort of why people call him King, as he's the only person who doesn't share their room. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

He takes off his uniform when he's in his room, and puts it away methodically, carefully, because the cleaner came in yesterday and moved everything. 

He takes his training gear off of the hook that the cleaner so thoughtfully put it on, and sets it on his bed. Black, with an orange outline; new. He's transferring, probably. 

This thought is proven correct when an official knocks on his door just as his watch chimes five, a key swinging from her fingertips.

"658, you've been transferred to the Karasuno team," she says, holding out a piece of paper for him to sign. He does so, the 658 resting in harsh, spiky tones next to everyone else's soft, curved numbers. He hasn't really heard of the Karasuno team; other than that they used to be the best, a long time ago. 

He follows her out of the room and into the lift, where she requests floor 4. The atmosphere inside is tense as they wait, and, thankfully, the official doesn't try to make conversation. Conversations are awkward things, he's found. 

The doors slide open with a quiet, tinny  _ding!_ that echoes around his head, bouncing against his skull. He sighs inwardly- 658 has never been one to voice discomfort in front of an official- and steps out, keeping track of where the woman walks. 

That is, until she disappears.

He twists his head from side to side frantically, trying to discern where she could have gone, until the wall suddenly  _moves_ beside him. 

The woman appears, seemingly unbothered by his shout of surprise, and gestures for him to come closer. He does, and upon seeing the wall properly, understands his mistake. The door is easily missable; it is painted the exact same colour as the wall. 

Within the room he can hear shouting; possibly fear, possibly excitement, probably anger. It's a sound he detests, and he recoils from the doorway, accidentally tripping over and crashing onto the floor. 

This gets the attention of the official, who glares at him.

"What on Earth are you doing? Get up!"

He rises immediately- 658 is not one to disobey official orders- and moves closer to the doorway, peering inside.

"This is the Karasuno team." The woman's voice is clipped, still devoid of any emotion. 

"Don't worry, you're in safe hands here." 

He is shaking, he can feel it, and there is his heartbeat, nestled in his throat as if it has a home there. 

(It doesn't, he tells himself, it doesn't). 

Swallowing carefully in an attempt to quell his fear, he takes a tiny, hesistant step into the training room. 


End file.
